


Baby Steps

by sparxwrites



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 02:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/pseuds/sparxwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the night after the Fall, the world fell asleep smiling. Before that, though, the animals evacuated Eden, Crawly learnt to walk, and a lizard had some unfinished business to attend to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Steps

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anon fic prompt over on tumblr for "Aziraphale teaching a newly human Crowley to walk".

“You know,” said a nervous voice, “I’m fairly sure I’m supposed to be smiting you right now. Not...” There was a sense of the voice flailing vaguely for words it had never needed ago up until three hours ago, when a certain someone had got a bit peckish and things had gone downhill rather quickly. “...fraternising with the enemy,” it finished eventually, sounding vaguely miserable.

“Wouldn’t be very sssporting though, would it? Smiting me right now,” said another voice, similar to the first in that it was polite, British (not that Britain existed back then, but it was the spirit of the thing, you understand), difficult to identify as either male or female, and also vaguely miserable. Unlike the other voice, however, there was the edge of a hiss to it, as if the speaker wasn’t entirely used to having a rounded, human tongue yet, and it also came from somewhere considerably closer to the ground.

This was possibly because the speaker was currently lying on said ground. For the sake of making things easier, we’ll refer to him as a ‘he’, although it would have been difficult to tell for sure what gender the figure was without lifting up the hem of the white tunic he was wearing and checking – and even then, there probably wouldn’t have been anything a human would recognise.

“No, I suppose not.” The first speaker, also wearing a white tunic, whom we shall also refer to as a ‘he’ for the sake of simplicity – Aziraphale, angel, principality and ex-guardian of the Eastern gate – knelt down and sighed, placing a hand on the shoulder of the figure lying in the dust – Crawly, serpent of Eden, ex-angel and, currently, ex-snake. “Come on, it’s not that hard. Really. If humans can learn to do it, I’m sure you can too.”

“But there’sss _two_ of them!” whined Crawly wretchedly, twisting away from watching a small line of ants parade happily past his nose on their six working legs to cast a helpless look at the legs sprawled out behind him. They made a small, sad, flopping motion, at the same time, as if the brain controlling them was only used to having a single appendage attached to its waist. “I can use one, but two? How in He-”

He paused, the word cut off in his mouth, and scowled. “How on earth are you sssupposed to make both of them work at the same time? Not to mention _these_.” His arms flailed vaguely in the air, and he regarded them with a look of miserable surprise. A small, green lizard, startled by the sudden motion, scuttled across the cracked earth and disappeared behind a tuft of dry grass. “What are you sssupposed to use them _for_? I never needed them when I wasss a sssnake.”

“Well, they’re for- for picking things up, and moving things, and wielding swords and the like,” said Aziraphale hesitantly. “I’m sure He had a good reason for giving them to us, so they must serve _some_ purpose.”

Crawly didn’t look convinced. “Bloody nuisancesss, that’sss what I sssay,” he huffed, and made another concerted effort to move his legs. They wriggled, in a rough impression of someone attempting to do a dolphin kick, and then lay still. Crawly let out a hiss of frustration, and invented swearing .

“Look, it’s not very difficult, honest.” Aziraphale stood up, an earnest look on his face, and demonstrated, bending and stretching his legs with an effortless grace that would make even the most seasoned ballerina jealous. A nearby flamingo stopped squawking to watch and take notes.

Crawly just lifted an eyebrow, and looked pointedly at his own legs – which were now, at least, moving independently of each other, but were still twitching in a motion reminiscent of someone having a seizure.

Aziraphale sighed. “Come here,” he murmured, bending down and sliding hands underneath Crawly’s arms. “Let me help. It’ll be easier when you’re standing up, I’m sure.”  
“What’re you _doing_?” complained Crawly, but didn’t object or try to pull away – mainly because he was now upright, but only with the angel’s help, and he didn’t fancy faceplanting into the ground from his new height.

“There we are.” Aziraphale had a small, satisfied smile on his face, all worries about fraternising with the enemy apparently forgotten. “See?” He pulled the demon’s arm over his shoulder, and then stretched out one white, messy wing to curl around his back and under his other arm. Crawly leant back against it gratefully, hooking one arm over it, and made a tentative motion with his feet.

One leg stretched forward, shaking slightly, toes curling and uncurling seemingly at random, and then lowered itself to the ground again, resting lightly against the earth. “It... moved,” said Crawly, eyes wide, a quietly shocked expression on his face that he quickly wiped off on the basis of being undemonic. “Oh.”

“Well done!” enthused Aziraphale, shuffling forward slightly and narrowly avoiding the lizard that darted across his path. Although Crawly at least seemed to have worked out the basic motion of walking, he hadn’t quite mastered the art of using his legs to support his weight, so when he attempted to copy the motion with his other foot, his body crumpled.

Aziraphale gasped in alarm, wing curling automatically around Crawly and protecting his back and head from the worst of the impact with a cushion of feathers, but it was still an unpleasant experience for the demon. “Ssstupid- bloody-” he snarled in frustration. “I _hate_ thessse thingsss! Why couldn’t I just have kept my niccce tail?!”

“Patience, patience,” chided Aziraphale, hauling him up again and re-organising their tangle of arms and wings so Crowley was supported again. “You’ll get there eventually.”  
“Patience isss a virtue, angel,” pointed out Crawly sulkily. “It’sss not sssomething that’sss really practisssed in Hell.”

The angel made a quiet, non-committal humming noise and nudged the demon forward lightly with the edge of his wing. Crawley took a tentative step forward – this time, actually putting weight on his foot, no matter how much the sudden shift in balance made him waver sideways into the protective barrier of Aziraphale’s wing and made his new muscles shake with the effort. Once he felt stable again, he moved his other foot, repeating the motion.

It was a slow, slow process, but eventually the stumbling, lopsided mess of limbs and feathers that was an angel supporting a demon had made it over a hundred yards, to a small, empty patch of ground. Crawly let go of Aziraphale and slumped gratefully to the ground, sighing in relief and breathing slightly harder than normal with exertion. Several birds, perched on the leafless limbs of a dead tree, observed the pair with amusement, and a small lizard scuttled through the dust to perch itself on top of a nearby rock to watch.

“...Thanksss,” Crawly said awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck – he’d worked out how to use his arms without really realising he was doing it, in the process of curling them around Aziraphale’s shoulders and wing in an attempt to keep himself upright.

“You’re welcome,” sniffed Aziraphale, shaking out his wings and tucking them fussily against his back again. A few feathers fluttered to the floor, pulled loose by Crawly’s somewhat desperate grip the few times he’d almost fallen over and had instinctively grabbed at the handfuls of feathers to stay upright. “It’s my duty to care for all of His creations, anyway, and I... _suppose_ that demons... _technically_ come under that heading. Considering He created you and all.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced by his own logic, but there were no other angels around to tell on him to Gabriel for enemy fraternising – only an armadillo shuffling slowly by, head to the ground – so he didn’t suppose it mattered too much.

Crawly sighed, bending his legs slightly and wishing he could miracle away the stiffness he could already feel forming in them. Unfortunately, though, he was suspicious enough of the new lengths of flesh and bone as it was, and was _not_ going to try anything with them until he knew them a bit better and was sure they weren’t going to- to turn purple, or drop off, or something.

Instead, he tilted his face up to the sun and blinked up at the perfect, fluffy white clouds scudding across the sky with yellow eyes, the occasional bird crossing overhead on its way to its new habitat. A rustle of feathers later, and his wings were spread out on either side of him, arching structures of feather and bone angled to catch the most of the heat.

“They look just the same as mine,” said Aziraphale in surprise, settling down cross-legged opposite the demon and copying the motion with his own wings, sighing happily at the warmth of the sun on his feathers.

Crawly eyed the angel’s wings, and thought privately that the day his wings were as messy and ungroomed as that would be the day he got discorporated for good, but didn’t say anything. Besides, Aziraphale was essentially right – the wings were the of the same structure and colour, although Aziraphale had the occasional pale, eggshell-brown feather scattered through the white like freckles, and Crawly’s primaries were edged with a delicate grey-blue. “Of courssse they do. Why wouldn’t they?”

“Well, because- well, you’re a _demon_ ,” said Aziraphale, a touch of embarrassment in his tone, as if it were some ugly, fatal disease that no one liked talking about in public – which, to be fair, in a way, it was. “And you used to be a snake. I was expecting... oh, I don’t know, scales, or spikes, or blood, or razor edges or something.” He looked almost disappointed by the lack of demonic-ness.

“Don’t be ssstupid,” scoffed Crawly, “I used to be an angel, just like you. Thesse are ssstill the sssame wingsss that I had in Heaven, and they work perfectly well. Why on earth would I change them?”  
“Because- oh, I don’t know. Forget it, it was a ridiculous thing to say.”

Silence fell slowly, of the companionable sort, and if anyone else had been around they would have been amazed to see an angel and a demon so relaxed in each other’s company, sunning their wings. But there wasn’t anyone around to complain about it, so the two were left in peace. A lost bumblebee droned lazily by, searching for its swarm, and from somewhere in the grass a cricket’s chirp was cut off as a small, hungry animal found dinner.

To the west, quite a way off, the Eastern Gate and the Garden of Eden could be seen, the thunderstorm still raging above it, and all sorts of animals flooding out from the greenness to escape the rain. To the east, a small cloud of dust and the faint glint of something silver and fiery could be seen weaving its way through the desert and towards the lush mountains on the other side.

Aziraphale watched the dust cloud’s progress, and sighed. “Oh, I do hope they’re okay,” he muttered anxiously to himself, biting his lip. “I do hope so.”  
“Hmm?” Crawly looked down and peered at him curiously. “Did you say something?”

“No, no...” Aziraphale trailed off, his awkwardness returning full force as he realised exactly _who_ he was sitting opposite. Without the excuses of it being unfair to strike an opponent who was on the ground and of needing to care for all of God’s creations, demons very loosely included in that bracket, he couldn’t really put it off any longer.

“Well, I suppose I should get back to thwarting wiles and smiting,” he said slowly. “Wouldn’t want Gabriel to think I’m slacking if he comes around to check up. He’s already in a bad mood because I lost my sword.”  
Crawly nodded, looking vaguely miserable and equally awkward. “And I should really get back to tempting and wiling,” he replied, curling and uncurling his toes just to watch them flex. A beetle, which had been running across them, fell off and landed on its back, legs wiggling helplessly in the air. “And... other sorts of things like that.”

Silence fell again, this time the kind you get when that one, socially oblivious person, who always seems to turn up at parties whether you invite them or not, starts loudly discussing their ongoing wart problem with the unfortunate soul sitting next to them over dinner.

It was not silence of the companionable sort.

“I don’t suppose,” said Aziraphale thoughtfully after a while, not quite meeting Crawly’s eye, “I don’t suppose your lot have any... you know, _special_ instructions or anything? Anything specific to go on?”  
“No, not really,” sighed Crawly. “Just sort of the general ‘ _go ye forth and tempt lost souls_ ’ spiel, you know. Standard issue sort of thing. How about your lot?”

“The same,” admitted Aziraphale in a lost sort of voice. “But with smiting instead of tempting, you understand,” he added quickly, in case there was some confusion about this. “We’re the side of Good, you see, we don’t go around tempting.”

“And smiting’s much better?” pointed out Crawly moodily.

“Ah, but we only smite those who do evil things, like thieves and adulterers and murderers-” Aziraphale broke off as he saw where the demon was coming from. “Anyway, we’re _Good_ ,” he said, as if that explained everything. “I don’t think it’s actually _possible_ for us to do Evil.” He unconsciously echoed Crawly’s words from earlier. “I just thought... if you’d had some special instructions, or something, it might make it easier to know what was going on.”

“It’s _ineffable_ , angel,” said Crawly, rolling his eyes. “We’re not _supposed_ to know what’s going on.” He hesitated, and then tucked his wings flat against his back, pressed his palms flat against the ground and pushed himself shakily to his feet. A rabbit ran past, dark eyes wide and ears flat against its head as it dashed over the ground. Crawly wobbled, and nearly fell over, but the very tips of his wings flared to steady him and he managed to stand, unaided, for the first time.

Aziraphale felt a small rush of something that _might_ have been affection, seeing the demon wide-eyed and wobbling like a newborn foal – but that was impossible, because angels didn’t cared about demons. They were the Enemy, to be smote on sight. But still...

“I’ll give you a head start,” he said suddenly, surprising even himself as he stood up. “What with you being new to walking and at a bit of a disadvantage and everything.” He nodded at Crawly’s legs, which were shaking slightly with the effort of holding him up. “It’s only fair, right?” He refused to believe there was a note of hopefulness in his voice, that he was looking for validation that he was doing the right thing from a _demon_ , of all creatures, but it was there.

Crawly blinked. “Yesss,” he said slowly. “I sssupossse it iss.” He hesitated, glancing from side to side as if checking there was no one within hearing range, and added, “Thanksss, angel. For everything.”  
“It was my pleasure,” said Aziraphale quietly.

Unsure of what else to say, Crawly nodded awkwardly. An uncoordinated stumble, a near faceplant into the dirt and a few frantic wing beats later, and the demon was aloft, gaining altitude quickly and setting off through the sky in the opposite direction to Eden. The mountains loomed appealingly, offering shelter and a hiding place from angels whilst he got used to this whole leg-using lark.

Aziraphale sighed, paced in a circle for bit, and counted to sixty as slowly as he could. Then he, too, took to the sky, heading in roughly the same direction as the demon – although a lot slower. No need to rush these things. The world was due to be around for quite a bit longer, he’d have plenty of time to catch up.

Behind them, the lizard shifted lazily on its rock, second eyelid shuttering across its eyeball. High above, a bird of as-of-yet-undetermined species spotted lunch and circled slowly the rock, before folding its wings into its body and diving. A few seconds before managing to reach the lizard, however, a second, larger bird that had also spotted lunch swooped down and carried the smaller bird off, screeching victory.

The lizard stayed there for a while longer, until the two winged creatures in the sky were little more than black dots in the sky. The several animals that attempted to eat it during that time either had unexpected changes of heart or were themselves eaten, in the universe’s twisted version of poetic justice. The sun wavered on the horizon, glowing orange-red and spreading out like the yolk of a cracked egg, before finally slipping below the curve of the earth and giving way to night.

The lizard smiled.

Technically, this should be impossible without the lizard either breaking its jawbone in several placed, having cosmetic surgery, or looking absolutely terrifying. This lizard somehow managed to carry off a kind, grandfatherly sort of look with a whole, surgically unaltered jaw, and a small cat that had been creeping up behind it anticipating an easy snack suddenly decided there were other places it needed to be in a hurry.

A second later, the lizard was no longer there. Several miles east, where the first humans were setting up camp, Adam watched his pregnant wife dropping small crumbs of food on the floor in an attempt to tempt a small, shy little reptile closer, and smiled. Several miles past that, in the shade of two different trees nearly a mile away from each other, where an angel and a demon each sat with their wings curled around their bodies in preparation for the coldness of the night, they each thought of a moment spent in the sun where sides hadn’t mattered, and smiled.

Unnoticed by Eve, the lizard smiled again, and winked, to no one in particular.

Maybe there was hope for the world yet.


End file.
